what happened to gaddafi (68 – seems more people are interested in Ed Lauter than the former Libyan dictator. Go figure) My favourite search, however, is this one: where is gaddafi actually. That last word makes it clear that it’s a secret just between the searcher and the internet

batcave entrance

I Wouldn’t Mind Knowing These, Though

hot rugby player

need easy instructions on how to write in publice service announcement

marriage expiration date

what do i get for $85 toilet paper

What Are These People Eating That They Can See It?

funny pictures of people farting

I’m Saying Nothing

arts degree jokes

housewife don’t do houseworks

the laughing housewide

That Explains A Lot

dinosaurs miss noah ark

socks in heaven

dementia wallasey (Wallasey is a town near Liverpool; I lived there for three years)

Like this:

I was going to start this post with Sally Field’s famous Oscar speech, You like me! You really like me! But it turns out she didn’t say that at all. Searching for a picture, I came across this blog, and the author tells us what Sally actually said was,

I can’t deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me

Which is a better fit for what’s been happening this last week or so to The Laughing Housewife. By the way, I’m not speaking of myself in the third person: The Laughing Housewife laughs all the time, is in a permanently good mood and is never short of blogging topics; The Laughing Housewife author is crabby, headachy and usually scrabbling around for something to write about.

It’s The Laughing Housewife you like, and you’ve been saying so quite a bit; recently I have received:

Two Liebster Awards

Nomination For Fours

Tagging For Fives

At least seven Versatile Blogger Awards

I’m not using my usual hyperbole with that last one, I promise; I think it might actually be more, but (I blush to admit it) I lost count.

First and foremost, I have to say this – loud – to you all:

I AM TRULY GRATEFUL FOR THESE AWARDS AND NOMINATIONS.

I am. To receive an award from a fellow blogger is – apologies for the word; I assure you this is also not hyperbole – an honour. An award says, ‘I like your blog enough to write about it; to link to it and encourage others to visit you.’ That’s a nice thing to do; I’m grateful. It is lovely to know that you enjoy my blog enough to want to share it.

Here’s where the elephant comes in: I received the nominations; I sweetly thanked the nominators, and did nothing: no four-five-seven things about me; no nominating others; no adding the widget. I did that once, the first time I received an award. I was new to blogging and didn’t realise it was, effectively, chain mail. When I tried to pass it on, everyone declined. Not one person wanted it. I thought about that; I realised it was chain mail; I resolved to never again be so taken in by a widget in a fancy dress.

You have gifted me with these awards, then, and I have done nothing. Blogging is of the moment: people quickly move on (you like me right now; I’m not in danger of forgetting that you might not like me tomorrow); I had hoped that those who passed on the awards would forget that they had nominated me and not be offended if I did not respond. But you haven’t been allowed to: awards have flown in like Maltesers under the tree on Christmas morning. To continue to say nothing has become embarrassing. So, once again, let me tell me how much I appreciate these awards. And what I have against them.

They are chain letters. I hate chain letters. Chain letters frighten people with their threats that bad things will happen if they are not sent on. People feel obliged to pass on these awards, and are afraid to offend the givers.

If you receive a real chain letter in your inbox, I urge you to send it to me if you are frightened, and I will do the electronic equivalent of burning it: that’s what the trash bin is for. I’ve always trashed them and nothing bad has happened to me, if I discount the Hub’s ill health, unemployment, homelessness, four dead parents…erm…um…

And did you ever hear of anyone suddenly coming in to £20,000 after obeying their dastardly instructions? Me neither. Of course, nothing bad will happen if I don’t pass on these awards, if I don’t include offending the kind bloggers who sent them to me in the first place; but I can’t see one without thinking ‘Arrgh! Chain mail!’

So, in case I haven’t mentioned it, thank you for the award, I really do appreciate the thought; but I’m afraid I think too much of you all to pass it on: I prefer to highlight your blogs in posts as they naturally occur. I guess you’ll have to consider this one of my seven things you didn’t know about me, alongside the fact that I can’t blow my nose without taking off my glasses first; or in public: too many people; too much snot.

Postscript: I forgot to address the issue of my own CoWAbunger Award. Let me make it plain that that award is just a bit of fun, to highlight funny and interesting comments that readers might have missed. I will never ask you to pass it on.

Like this:

This comes from Michelle in South Africa, who is almost single-handedly keeping me supplied in funnies.

What Makes 100%?

What does it mean to give MORE than 100%?

Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have all been to those meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%.

How about achieving 103%?

What makes up 100% in life?

Here’s a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:

If:

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

is represented as:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.

Then:

H-A-R-D-W-O-R-K 8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%

and

K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E 11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%

But

A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E 1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

And

B-U-L-L-S-H-!-T 2+21+12+12+19+8+9+20 = 103%

And look how far ass kissing will take you:

A-S-S-K-I-S-S-I-N-G 1+19+19+11+9+19+19+9+14+7 = 118%

So, one can conclude with mathematical certainty, that while Hard Work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it’s the Bullsh!t and Ass Kissing that will put you over the top.

Like this:

Before you start thinking I’m mad, let me tell you that you’re confused: a UFO is not an alien space ship, but an unidentified flying object. There are lots of unidentified flying objects in the world, especially when I’m rowing with the Hub.

Besides, they keep the alien ships at Roswell.

*

What is your favorite day of the week? And why?

The day WordPress issues sensible prompts. So none.

*

Invent a new Olympic sport.

Alien Baiting.

Take your captured alien and stick it in a ring.

Now throw in a couple of WordPress prompters and watch them dance before they are vaporised.

And I wonder why I’ve never been Freshly Pressed…

*

Is all fair in love and war?

I dunno, but I do know that all’s not fair in blogging: Tinman has a way better answer to this prompt than me.

Oops. Still on last week’s sleep deprivation diet; the actual question to which his answer is way better than mine is:

*

Would you rather laugh with the sinners, or cry with the saints?

Billy Joel reckons that sinners are much more fun but he hasn’t seen my church on a Sunday morning: sometimes we clap when we sing. I could get all Biblical and tell you that we are all sinners, and become known as ‘saints’ when we’re saved – it’s a name change to reflect a stage in our Christian life, not our character; like going from baby to toddler to child to puberty-driven harridan to adolescent: they are all still children and all still collectively known as ‘suck the life force out of you breadsnappers’ – but you know I never discuss religion, so I won’t.

This Is Me:

I am a little fat. I like food; what can I say? I have dull hair: mousey. I don’t wear much make-up and have no need of a dressing table. If I look like a bag lady, I chose my own clothes. If I look nice, the Hub picked them for me. Despite all this, I am a little vain. This photograph is from 2003. I had to go back that far to find one of me that I liked. But I don’t really care: my husband still thinks I’m beautiful and if he doesn’t, he loves me enough to lie about it. I’m lucky. I have two boys. They never lie to me. Still, you can't have everything.

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